


In Good Company

by Fistful_of_Gamma_Rays



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Hunk for unsung MVP, Literal Sleeping Together, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25694956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fistful_of_Gamma_Rays/pseuds/Fistful_of_Gamma_Rays
Summary: Neither Pidge nor Keith have a lot of common sense to spare. Fortunately, Hunk is there to pick up the slack.
Relationships: Hunk & Keith & Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 23
Kudos: 65
Collections: Gentronweek





	In Good Company

Hunk likes to think of himself as a sensible guy. Maybe the only sensible guy on the castle. Lance is his best friend - a good guy, a smart guy, a funny guy - but as much as Hunk loves him, he wouldn’t call him grounded. Shiro puts up a good show, but Shiro also took it completely in stride that they were going to fly giant robots and pit themselves against a ten-thousand year-old empire. Allura is cut from the same cloth as Shiro - she’ll say a bunch of very sensible-sounding things, and then she’ll just _revive a whole balmera with magic_. And while Hunk has nothing but respect for Coran’s general kindness and mechanical acumen, he doesn’t believe in plain and simple solutions where there’s a fancier, more convoluted alternative.

Keith and Pidge don’t even merit inclusion in this list. Pidge has obviously taken her sense out back and shot it dead sometime in her infancy, and Keith doesn’t bother pretending to have had any to begin with.

Hack your way into classified government records that get you threatened with a felony charge? _Perfectly reasonable._

Jump your severely overloaded bike off a thirty-foot vertical drop? _What could go wrong?_

Run away from home and infiltrate a secure facility under an assumed name? _The logical course of action after the felony thing._

Launch yourself out into space with nothing but a jetpack? _Why not?_

These are not the actions of people who have an ounce of sense between them, and they’re both lucky Hunk is there to pick up the slack for them.

“Guys,” he says wearily, “maybe we should call it for the night? It’s-” he squints at the time readout “-thirteenth varga.” 

They both stop what they’re doing and stare at him. Pidge looks personally offended by the suggestion. She’s hunched over her computer, a tower of empty cups stacked precariously at her elbow. He can tell from the glare reflecting off her glasses that she’s set the text of her editor to green for maximum hacker cred. Keith is standing off to the side, holding a wrench like he intends to do some damage with it. He just looks clueless, like it’s never occurred to him that regular people sleep in the night cycle. He’s maintaining a polite distance from both of them, because Keith is the kind of maniac who thinks of physical activity as relaxing and by the time he shows up at their afterhours hackathons, he usually reeks. 

(That’s been happening more often lately. Keith showing up. Ever since the thing with Ulaz went down, he’s been keeping strange hours. Hunk is happy to have him - he’s good at taking things apart and putting them together, and having the extra set of hands is a big help sometimes. But the timing worries him a little.)

“Sleep is for the weak, Hunk,” says Pidge flatly.

This is an obvious bit of nerd-braggadocio. They’ve been dissecting this hunk of space junk for a good six hours. Pidge is blinking a little too rapidly behind her glasses, her eyelids heavy. Keith has the advantage of being on his feet and looks slightly more awake, but his shoulders are slumped out of their usual straightness, and he’s working on an impressive set of dark circles under his eyes. Hunk loves dissecting space junk as much as the next guy, but someone has to be the reasonable one here and it’s not going to be either of them. 

As if to prove the point, Keith frowns over at him. “You can go to bed if you want. I’ll stick around and help Pidge finish up.”

He raises a brow. “Yeah, not happening. I worked too hard on this to miss out on finishing it.”

Keith shrugs with the air of a man who’s tried his best and can’t be held accountable for others’ choices. “Up to you.”

“It’s almost working, anyway,” says Pidge. This is a blatant lie.

“Come on, guys. It’ll still be almost working tomorrow,” he tries. They both stare at him skeptically. He sighs. “No?” Pidge is visibly swallowing a yawn. Hypocrite. “We can at least take a break, right? Drink some space-tea and chill for a few minutes?” Pidge’s eyes flick towards her pile of empty cups and he knows he’s got a toehold. He just needs better bait. “Come at the problem with fresh minds?” he says hopefully.

Pidge snatches up one of her cups. “Okay, okay. You’ve convinced me.” Keith gives a noncommittal shrug and puts down the wrench.

Hunk shakes his head sternly and points at Pidge’s side of the workbench. “Uh-uh. On this castle we return all cookware to the kitchen like civilized people.”

She rolls her eyes and grabs another cup in her other hand. Keith gets the last one and they all troop out of the workroom towards the mess.

Once they’re there, Pidge sets up at the sink to wash her cups and Keith wordlessly falls in beside her to dry them. Hunk makes three cups (nice, clean cups that haven’t been sitting in the workroom for days) of the stuff they’re calling space-tea. Hunk thinks of kitchens as loud places, full of people and laughter and chaos. Pidge and Keith are both quiet people (except when they’re not), and he finds himself humming a little to fill in the silence. Usually, the castle’s mess feels too empty to him, but there’s something nice about this, between the hushed bustle of other bodies, and sound of running water, and the warm smell of the tea.

When it’s done, he puts the cups down on the little round table in the corner and they all sit down. It’s barely big enough for three chairs, and they have to scoot close together to fit. There’s quiet for a while as they all settle in and sip at the tea. Now that he’s off his feet, Hunk can feel sleep pulling at him again. His bones are pleasantly heavy, and his eyes ache a little. He’s not the only one. Pidge is slumped in her chair, hair sticking up like thistledown, the warmth of the mug clutched against her chest. Even Keith is stretched out, blinking languidly into the distance.

After a minute he gives himself a slight shake. “Tea’s good. Thanks, Hunk.” Pidge makes a soft, indistinct noise of agreement.

“Aw, it’s no trouble.” He inhales the steam from his mug and closes his eyes. “Think I’m finally happy with this blend. Nice aroma, not too sweet, quick prep. Sometimes you just need a good tea.”

“Mm.”

They’re all quiet for a little bit, sipping at their drinks. The slightly spicy smell of the tea fills the room, and it’s silent except for the dull clink of the cups and the low hum of the ship. 

There’s a sudden, high-pitched groan as Pidge lets loose an enormous yawn, blinking owlishly. “Hunk, you traitor,” she says without acrimony. “You planned this.”

“If you’re tired, you probably need the sleep,” he pronounces virtuously.

“Dishonor on your house,” she mumbles, and flips him off. “Keith,” she says indistinctly, “shove over this way.”

Bemusedly, he does. Pidge slumps over sideways onto his shoulder. “You stink like a gym,” she mutters, and then, to all appearances, falls asleep.

Keith goes rigid, and, very slowly, without moving any other part of his body, looks over to Hunk. Hunk blinks. “Uh. Don’t think I’ve ever seen her crash that fast. You didn’t come by, but I think she was up most of last night too.” He stifles a yawn. “I don’t know how you two do it.”

Keith is slowly relaxing, inch-by-inch going back to a normal human posture. Hunk can’t help but be fascinated by this process every time he sees it. It’s like watching a cat pretend it fell off the counter on purpose. “Does it bother you guys when I show up?” Keith asks suddenly.

Hunk shakes himself upright. “What? No, of course not.” He squints suspiciously. “What brought that on?”

Keith gives a careful one-shouldered shrug, eyes closed. “Wasn’t sure if it was engineers-only.”

“Nah. The extra company’s nice, you know? The castle’s just too big sometimes.” He smiles a little, feels it waver around the edges. “Always used to have aunts and uncles and cousins coming over. Just having a few people around is kind of spooky.”

“Huh.” Keith is watching him out of the corner of his eye, eyelids half-closed. Maybe back before he’d really known Keith it would have felt dismissive, but now it just feels curious. Sympathetic.

A companionable silence holds between them for a little bit and Hunk can feel his eyelids starting to droop again. “Okay,” he groans after the second time he nearly pitches forward onto the table, “I’m going to bed.”

“Hunk.” Keith’s voice startles him. “What do I do?”

It takes him a second to realize that this isn’t an existential question, but a practical one. Keith gestures with his free hand to Pidge, who is leaning heavily into his left side, drooling onto his shoulder, glasses askew. Keith himself looks sleepily perplexed at the whole situation. It’s adorable, and Hunk will never voice that thought aloud to either of them.

“I. Uh. I guess you’re gonna have to wake her up. It’s either that or sleep here, man.”

“Can’t,” Keith says. “If I fall asleep, she’s going to push me out of the chair.” 

He’s definitely listing a little under Pidge’s octopus-like invasion of his space. Hunk considers the situation, and then carefully inches his chair around the table to Keith’s free side. He yawns, and pats his shoulder on the side facing Keith. “If you want to stay here, I got you buddy.” Keith blinks dumbly up at him. “If you’d rather go back to your room, though, I’ll help you wake her up,” he adds hastily. And then he waits, because Keith is kind of cautious and choosy about personal space. 

A few seconds go by, and then Keith blows a breath out through his hair and carefully leans his shoulder against Hunk’s. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing,” Hunk replies, and leans a little towards Keith to counterbalance Pidge’s weight. He stretches his other hand out as far as he can and waves at the control panel in the wall. The lights dim. Very gradually, Keith goes from a sharp, bony lump digging into the meat of his shoulder to a heavy, warm weight settled against his side. He does kind of smell like a gym up close, but it’s an ordinary, homely people-smell, not the dead, odorless air of the castle. He can make out Keith’s long, slow breaths and Pidge’s faint, whuffling snore in the dark, and it’s just… nice. Comfortable.

He closes his eyes and falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Gentron Week 2020, prompt "literal sleeping together."
> 
> Tumblr [here](https://fistfulofgammarays.tumblr.com/) if you want to talk.


End file.
